Star Wars - The New Jedi Order - Force Heretic I - Remnant - Book 17

by Sean Williams

  It was hatred-a deep and unremitting hatred . . .

  The smell of burning flesh was the first thing she was able to clearly identify. It was unmistakable-a smell so caustic and pungent that it crept like a dung-worm through her nose, furiously writhing its way into her olfactory nerve center to ensure that she never forgot it. And how could she? It was so overwhelming that she felt sure she'd never be free of it, no matter how far she could get from this place.

  It was close, too-so close, in fact, that she found herself checking her own arms to make sure her own skin wasn't smoldering. All she saw, though, was a layer of ash that had settled over her like a fine and gentle snow. And beneath that. ..

  She hid her arms in the folds of her robes, looking again into the thick smoke. She could hear movement and voices, but no matter how much she squinted and strained, she couldn't make anything out through the haze. And constantly in the background came the snap and fsst of the fires consuming flesh, along with the occasional crack from what she imagined to be bones breaking in the extreme heat. But she still couldn't make anything out, no matter how much she squinted.

  She took a couple of cautious steps forward until her feet came to the edge of the rocky outcrop upon which she was standing and was able to make out what was happening. Down below she could see a compound, and in it a ceremony was taking place. Those gathered there had their faces concealed beneath hoods, and they were all dressed in robes similar to the one she was wearing. They seemed to have been waiting for her arrival, for when they saw her emerge from the smoke they automatically began the ceremony proper, chanting as they marched around the compound. It was a language that was at once alien as it was familiar-a language that simultaneously terrified and comforted her. These emotions were not generated by the words themselves, however, but rather the culture this language was rooted in.

  She ignored the proceedings, looking instead about the five-sided compound. In each corner there stood an immense effigy of a god, each one staring down toward a pit at its feet. The priests were filing past these pits in turn, casually tossing into the smoking holes what she instinctively knew to be various body parts. In accordance with her ambiguous emotions, she found herself both warmed and repulsed by the sight, with one part of her wishing to give thanks to the gods that accepted these offerings, while another, deeper part of her wanted to throw up from the smell emanating from the pits.

  The effigies that rose into the shadows she knew well- all except one. The farthest one from where she stood was a god unlike any she had seen before; she felt it did not even belong here with the others. It was mostly hidden in the shadows, rising like a giant snake high above the other graven images around the compound. Its presence was a blasphemy she wanted to protest against, but she couldn't because she felt it was here because 6f her. Its eyes-they weren't staring into the pit like the other statues, they were staring at her. More than that those immense, red eyes were accusing her.

  Why did you leave me? she heard it whisper into her thoughts.

  She wanted to flee. The part of her that had been comforted by the ceremony was suddenly panicked and scared. But there was nowhere for her to go. All the passages leading into the mortuary were closed, plugged up by yorik coral.

  She didn't have time to dwell on it, however. One of the priests had caught her attention and was waving at her to watch the burning of the body parts in the pits. But whose body was it? And what was it? Human? Yuuzhan Vong? It was impossible to tell from such a distance.

  Other priests motioned for her to watch. She frowned in confusion as she leaned precariously over the lip of the pit. What was it they wanted her to see? She saw.

  The body parts weren't being destroyed-they were being remade. They were crawling from their individual fires over to the unnaturally large pyre blazing in the compound's center, immersing themselves into the blue-and-orange flames. The fire licked at each of the parts-taking the quivering mat of skin and wrapping it around the pulsing organs, collecting the limbs and snapping them back into place in the appropriate socket.

  She turned to the snake statue, beseeching it to stop. Through the choking smoke it no longer looked like a reptile, though. It looked like . . . But, no. The smoke was too thick by far to allow her to make anyth ing out clearly. All she could discern was its eyes, red and penetrating in the oppressive gloom of the chamber-its stare no longer upon her, but rather focused on the events taking place in the compound below.

  She looked down to see a figure stepping from the pyre, its skin blistering from the heat.

  "Please," she whispered to the reptile, begging for forgiveness.

  "Please," the figure from the flames echoed at the same time-also to the reptile, but for a different reason. It seemed to be pleading with the statue for life, as though the reptile had the power to grant or deny this.

  Then suddenly, without warning, the figure from the flames turned to face her up on the rocks. The burns on the skin had vanished, and all that remained now were scars. But even with this disfigurement, she was still able to recognize the face. It was like looking directly into a mirror.. .

  She turned and fled into the shadows and smoke, effortlessly smashing the yorik coral plug that had formed over the passage through which she'd initially entered, fleeing into the darkness of the tunnel, running from the abomination with her face . . .

  "A living planet?" Danni Quee's voice possessed a rising tone of incredulity. "You're not talking about Zonama Sekot, are you?"

  "Good," Master Luke said. "You've heard of it." "I've also heard of the Algnadesh Ship Graveyards, and the Lost Treasure of Boro-borosa, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go halfway around the galaxy looking for them. Every astronomer who's worked the Outer Rim knows about Zonama Sekot. They know it doesn't exist, for starters."

  Saba Sebatyne tensed. In Barabel society, expressing doubts over a superior's decision in such an open manner would certainly result in a challenge, and a challenge meant a blood fight. Although she had turned her back on some of her people's more aggressive ways, she still found herself a prisoner to her upbringing. It was something she would probably battle the rest of her life- especially now that her people were no more. How, after all, was one to fight a ghost?

  "I understand your reaction." Master Luke smiled patiently. "It's not the first time I've gotten this response, believe me. If you'll allow me to explain my reasons, though, I'm sure you'll come around ..."

  Jedi Master Luke Skywalker's explanation sent tingles of excitement through Saba's joy-starved brain. A living world? Her tail coiled and uncoiled reflexively from the excitement such a notion stirred. Of all the wonders she had seen since leaving Barab I, a sentient planet would have to be the most profound.

  Her mind froze as another level of significance to the Master's words occurred to her. He's telling me because he intends for this one to go with him, she thought to herself, her slitlike eyes widening at the idea. She couldn't help but feel both wonder and despair at the thought. She would have to decline. She had no choice. And with that thought, her mind drifted . ..

  The Master's office was not ostentatious. It contained a plain desk and three chairs suitable for people of various species. Occupying those chairs were Saba, Danni, and the healer Master Cilghal. A hologram of the Master's son, Ben, repeated every forty seconds in one corner of the desk. Saba's eyes were caught by it, entranced by the innocent play of the child. She vividly remembered the one time she had met him, while he was on a brief holiday from the Maw. The Jedi Master's son, although still very young, was already used to the many different shapes and sizes in which life presented itself in the galaxy, and so had displayed no alarm at the sight of Saba's naturally fierce demeanor. Quelling the grief at losing so many young of her own kind, Saba had flared her nostrils back and grinned with all her teeth unfolded. She was delighted to see the boy respond with a bright, wide smile that stretched from his mouth right up to his deep, steel-blue eyes.

  Her eyebrow ridges drew closer
together in a frown. The memory was a sobering one. Everyone, it seemed, had lost something during the war with the Yuuzhan Vong. Many people had lost their homes, their families, their lives. She herself had lost her Master and her apprentices before watching Barab I die. Her complicity in the destruction of her people slowed her recovery, made her doubt her own abilities as a fighterbut to be reminded of what she was supposed to be fighting for made her feel slightly better.

  Life. The future. A single child's smile.

  "Are you sure it's safe?" Master Cilghal asked from behind her. Woken from her daze, Saba turned slightly in her seat so she could watch both the Mon Calamari healer and Master Skywalker at the same time.

  "Look at it this way," Master Luke said. "If we stay here on Mon Cal, we're at ground zero for Yuuzhan Vong retaliation. We're also prime targets for Peace Brigade action. I doubt there will be anything as dangerous as either of those possibilities in the Unknown Regions."

  "With all due respect, Master Skywalker. we don't know what's in there. That's why it's called 'Unknown.' " Danni Quee would know, Saba assumed. The human scientist had started life as an astronomer and only by circumstance moved into specializing in the enemy's works.

  "Exactly," Master Skywalker said, acknowledging the point with a patient nod. "But this is an exploratory mission, not a military one. We're not going to pick fights."

  "You'll try to stop them if you find them, though."

  "That is the nature of the job." Master Luke smiled. "Will you come?"

  Danni shrugged in a way that implied she was helpless to make him see reason. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

  "And you, Master Cilghal, have you reconsidered your decision?"

  "I have, Master Skywalker." The healer stood, bowing her head. "But I have not changed my mind. I am needed here. There is too much work for me to do, too many people to teach in the ways we have lost. It would be irresponsible of me to leave now."

  The words implied another challenge, but the manner of neither Master acknowledged it.

  "I understand," Master Skywalker said smoothly, "although I am sorry we won't have you with us."

  "I recommend my apprentice, Tekli, to go in my place."

  "Thank you, Cilghal. We would be delighted to have her aboard. With Danni, Mara, myself, and Jacen, our complement is almost complete." Master Skywalker turned to address Saba, presumably to invite her to join him and the others on the mission to the sentient planet. Saba's powerful heart racedbut before he could speak he frowned, and his attention turned inward for a moment. A look of concern flashed across his face.

  "Master?" Saba said.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought"

  Master Cilghal's comlink buzzed at that moment. She answered it, listening intently to the tiny voice issuing from it. "Take her to the infirmary. I'll be there immediately." Standing, she said, "I'm sorry, Luke. It's Tahiri."

  "Where is she?" asked Master Skywalker, also standing. "Is she hurt?"

  "She's here in the city," Cilghal explained, moving hurriedly toward the door. "Medics found her a few moments ago, unconscious. I've advised Tekli to bring her in. I'll go there now to supervise her examination."

  "I'll alert Mara," Master Skywalker said as Cilghal left the room. "She'll want to be there. And Jacen, too."

  "What about you, Hisser?" Danni asked as the Master reached for his comlink to make the call. "Will you come?"

  For a moment Saba was confused. "There iz little this one could do for Tahiri"

  "No, the mission." The young human woman reached across the space between them to touch her arm. "It sounds crazy, but Vergere knew what she was talking about. Are you going to come along?"

  Saba froze, barely hearing Danni's words. Few humans touched her. Barabels were best known for their violentsome would even say barbarousways, and it was well known that a wrong gesture or word could be enough to provoke a challenge. Sometimes they became the target of status-proving assaults from other species usually by adolescents going out of their way do so in order to prove that they weren't afraid of what might happen as a result. In days gone by she might have ruthlessly shown them that they should be afraidbut now she was a Jedi Knight, and she had learned to quell such automatic impulses. Or so she'd thought.

  Danni was a friend. They had worked together in the past. She trusted Saba not to hurt her.

  She quelled the reflex to strike out, but she couldn't quell the dismay that filled her at what might happen if she made the same mistake again. She had attacked the wrong people once already. How was she ever to make up for that?

  "It would be an honor to accompany you on any mission," she said, "but it would be better if you found someone else. Someone whose judgment haz not proven to be so poor."

  "It's not your fault" Danni began.

  "Their deathz were from this one's hands." Saba shook her head solemnly. "Their memory iz this one's ac-cuzer. This one failed to feel the people trapped in that slaveship because of anger and hatredblinded by dark emotions. If this one had shown more control, they might still be alive today."

  "That's true," Master Skywalker said. Saba looked up. She hadn't noticed the Master finish his calls. "And they might be slaves of the Yuuzhan Vong, too. Or food. Wishing that things were otherwise does nothing to erase memories. Wounds do not heal by ignoring them."

  "This one appreciatez what you are trying to do," she said with quiet regret, turning to face him, "but I cannot."

  "We're not asking you to come out of sympathy, Saba. We1 am asking you to come because you are a Jedi Knight, and we need your help. Your life sensitivity has grown enormously since the loss of your people. You have to admit that we could use someone like that, where we're going." He watched her, gauging her reaction. "Do you really want me to order you along?"

  The thick black plates covering her body stiffened. "I would not like to fail you, Master. If I fail again, my people fail with me."

  "So don't fail, Saba." The Master smiled. "Think of it as a huntone last hunt for the honor of your people. How better could they be remembered?"

  That thought caught her. What the Master was proposing wasn't a battle in which victory meant instant death for one side. The quest to find Zonama Sekot would be played out over weeks, maybe months, through dangerous and uncharted territories. There would be clues to discover, trails to follow, traps to unravel. They would have to be stealthy, keen-sensed, and quick-witted. Who knew where it would lead them, or what they might find at the end of it?

  Her tail thumped the floor. Part of her responded to the challengeand there was a challenge implicit in the Master's voice. A reminder of who she had been, and still was on many levels. She was a hunter, the end result of generations of breeding and a lifetime of instincts. If anyone could hunt a living planet, it would be her.

  How better could they be remembered?

  "If you've no further objections," Master Luke said, "I'd call that settled. You'll come with us on the hunt for Zonama Sekot."

  Saba vacillated for a few seconds longer, then acquiesced with a nod. A hunt was better than waiting around Mon Cal for the Yuuzhan Vong to attack.

  "This one will come," she said.

  His smile widened. "Thank you, Saba."

  "I'm glad," Danni added, squeezing her arm tightly, then letting go.

  Saba dipped her head in a gesture anyone familiar with Barabels would instantly recognize honored obeisance with overtones of awe.

  "Now," said the Master, standing, "let's go find out what happened to Tahiri."

  Deep in the bowels of Yuuzhan'tar, a cloaked figure moved stealthily through the shadows. His ooglith masquer was failing, drying around the edges and beginning to peel away, rejecting the face beneath just as the society to which he had once belonged had rejected him. Those living above himin that artificial landscape that had once been known as Coruscant but was now named after the legendary Yuuzhan Vong homeworldthey would surely kill him if they ever found him. He knew that without question. The
y had tried often enough in the last couple of months he'd been forced to live in the filthy underworld of this revolting planet. But Nom Anor had no intentions of letting them find him just yet. He had learned to hide well in these artificial caverns and tunnels, among the abandoned machines that littered the underworld. It made him sick to have to dwell among such abominations, but it was necessary if he was to surviveand he would survive.

  He moved furtively along the artificial roads, cursing under his breath as he silently damned the one who had effectively destroyed him. He lashed out at one of the numerous droid husks standing in his way, not caring that the rusty metal gashed his fingers. His insides burned with anger at the contemplation of his fall. Should he remain down here another ten years, he knew he would never forget that betrayal, and never surrender his anger.

  When the quiet had finally settled around the noisy clatter of the droid he had just smashed, he continued walkinga fugitive in this forsaken and forgotten underworld. He knew that his thoughts were slightly imbal-anced, that isolation and near starvation were taking

  their toll. But that did nothing to undermine his determination to survive.

  The deep, artificial caverns of Yuuzhan'tar were places he'd had no great wish to visit, let alone flee to. The invading armies of the Yuuzhan Vong had flushed all manner of vermin from them, including entire cultures that had existed in the crawlspaces of the original inhabitants' government. Strange, wild-eyed outcasts all, they had been either sacrificed as part of Warmaster Tsavong Lah's purification program, or turned into slaves or soldiers for use in further battles. Once the caverns had been declared empty, they had been abandoned, and ignored as irrelevant. The new warmaster, Nas Choka, recently recalled from Hutt space, had continued the purification campaign. Everyone had assumed that the underground ruins were empty still. . .